


Consequences

by Eressë (eresse21)



Series: Greenleaf and Imladris [19]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eresse21/pseuds/Eress%C3%AB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A binding without precedent brings about some unexpected consequences. And we can lie to others but we cannot truly lie to ourselves. Nineteenth story in a series chronicling the millennia-spanning relationship of Legolas and Elrohir from the moment they meet beneath the eaves of Greenwood the Great to the years of the War of the Ring and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mind's Eye

**Author's Note:**

> _The characters belong to the Wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offence is intended or profit made in my use of them._
> 
> When I first wrote this series, I chose to leave out this part because I thought it did not fit in with the main storyline and instead posted it afterwards as a side story. On hindsight, however, I now think it works well in the series after all. Hence, its reintegration here.

_Úrui_ T.A. 3019  
The grassy plains of Rohan spread out endlessly before the lone rider. It was a perfect day for a jaunt into the vastness of the Riddermark. Bright and breezy and nary a dark cloud to shadow the impossibly blue sky. Or a ferocious orc or unruly Dunlending to mar the peace and quiet.

Legolas grinned as Arod galloped happily across the wide expanse of horse-trodden land with only the lightness of an Elf upon his back. Said Elf suspected his steed had always sensed the Dwarf’s unease with his four-legged kindred and returned the dislike with equal lack of affection.

A brightly sparkling stream revealed itself just below the low hill they now crested. He turned Arod towards the silvery streak. It was time for a cooling drink for both horse and rider.

While Arod took his fill, Legolas moved a fair distance upstream to take his. He knelt before the stream and scooped up a good mouthful with his hands. As he let the refreshing liquid slide down his throat, he watched the waters return to their languid flow, the crystalline surface alike to a well-polished mirror. 

He stared as his reflection grew more distinct. His breath caught. A face appeared just above his shoulder. 

Legolas turned swiftly. Argent eyes met his sapphire gaze. “Elrohir!” he said with delight. “What brings you here?”

The Elf-knight shrugged and only said with a faint smile, “I saw you.”

Legolas watched with some bemusement as he turned and walked to the lone tree by the stream. The warrior sank down in its shade and leaned his lissome frame against the gnarled trunk. After a moment, Legolas rose and joined him. He regarded his friend with some disconcertment. But Elrohir did not look at him.

“I pray your sojourn in Fangorn with Gimli will bring you naught but pleasure,” the Elvenlord murmured, eyes on the stream. 

Legolas stared at him curiously. “Why so formal in your manner, Elrohir?” he queried. “Indeed, you have been distant with me these past many days.”

“Have I?” Elrohir countered mildly. “I was not aware of it.”

The archer felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He did not know why or how but it seemed a gap yawned between him and the Elf-knight. A gap that frightened him. It was alarming not to feel their closeness of yore; he had always depended on it for forbearance and courage. He studied Elrohir wonderingly.

The Elf-knight had bound his hair into the single, thick plait that suited him so well. It revealed his finely sculpted countenance and emphasized the un-elvish broadness of his shoulders, which contrasted so sensuously with his otherwise slender form. But of a sudden, Legolas longed to see the raven locks loose and wanton upon those very shoulders. 

Wordlessly, he reached over and, without asking his friend leave to do so, unclasped the long braid. Elrohir watched him impassively as he ran his hand through the sable skein until the warrior’s tresses flowed like a cascade of blue-black silk, spilling gloriously upon his shoulders and down his back. With his hair’s loosening the Elf-knight’s distinctive scent also came to the fore. Legolas closed his eyes as the sweet aromas of the hidden vale assailed his nostrils.

He opened his eyes and realized with a start that Elrohir was watching him. He swallowed hard, abashed by his friend’s regard. But Elrohir made no move save to tilt his head slightly and raise a questioning eyebrow. At a loss for a rational explanation for his actions, Legolas found himself staring at the twin’s mouth instead. The sinuous lips seemed rosier than usual to the prince’s suddenly fogged mind.

Without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Elrohir’s. Caught them and could not help savoring them. They were not like any Elf-maid’s or akin even to those of the _ellyn_ of Lórien who had dared to steal this favor from him, much to their immediate rue. Not even in the Golden Wood had he known any like the Elf-knight’s lips. Or desired them.

Warm and soft and sweet yet ripe with barely leashed power and passion just simmering below some intangible surface. He broke off the kiss, his breath hitching in his throat at the turbulent feelings this mere caress evoked within him. He became aware of Elrohir’s wary gaze.

“Calenlass, you said you wished us to be as we once were,” he quietly reminded the archer. “To be friends and no more.”

Legolas flushed. “I know,” he said stumblingly. “But after all I have endured, I – ‘tis only that – I cannot go on without – without—”

He looked away in distress, cheeks scarlet with shame, unable to put into words what he felt, what he needed. A gentle hand cupped his chin and compelled him to face his friend once more. Elrohir studied him intently. And then the warrior pulled him close and kissed him.

Shame swiftly dissipating with the answering of his desire, Legolas sighed and sank into the Elf-knight’s arms. A part of him wondered in confusion: Why do I crave his touch? What is wrong with me? But another part, the greater part, did not care to ponder the conundrum and only wanted to know Elrohir’s inimitable possession once more.

Liquid fire swept through his veins as the warrior proved to him all over again the exquisite singularity of his prowess in this field of battle. It seemed but a moment ere he found himself supine upon Elrohir’s cloak, his clothing cast aside, the twin blanketing him with more than his formidable form.

He shuddered as Elrohir’s lips paved a burning path down the column of his throat to the shallowly heaving planes of his chest. He sucked in his breath as each nipple was drawn into moist warmth and sharply suckled until he was writhing needfully beneath the warrior. The searing quest continued, leaving crimson smears on the pale skin of his belly, making him gasp in elated felicity. A moan broke from his lips as the sensitive clefts that framed his groin were teasingly laved and nipped. 

While powerful hands gripped and stroked his thighs, a preying mouth ensnared his turgid length, nearly making him howl out his joy. He helplessly bucked into the Elf-knight’s mouth, the rapture of Elrohir’s attentions bringing him perilously close to completion. The warrior suddenly released him. 

“Nay!” he gasped imploringly. “Elrohir, please do not leave me thusly!”

“I will not, _ernilen_ ”—my prince—Elrohir purringly assured him. “Your pleasure is mine. Always.”

Legolas stared up dazedly at him as he moved between his legs, lifting them, preparing him for breaching. When it came, the archer groaned pleasurably, arching into his slow, deep piercing. And then he almost sobbingly cried out as Elrohir curled his hand around his aching shaft and stroked him in time with his bruising thrusts. 

The rapturous pressure grew in his nether regions with every delve into his body and every caress of his length. Elrohir caught his gaze and held it. Legolas thought he would drown in the twilight depths. They lured him, beguiled him, steadily undid him.

 _Let go, Calenlass_ , urged the silent, irresistible command.

Release came with crashing force, overwhelming him until he could hold himself back no longer and he hoarsely keened the Elf-knight’s name, the sound of it ringing across the serene plains. 

“Legolas! Are you all right?!”

The gruffly voiced query jolted the Elf, so jarringly different was it from the deep, melodious tones of his friend turned lover. He blinked in confusion as he beheld Gimli’s anxious countenance hovering over him. The Dwarf’s hair and beard was a tousled mess for he had been hauled out of deep slumber most precipitately. Legolas looked about him, disoriented, and tried to reconcile the open, airy vastness of Rohan with this closed, tree-crowded darkness. The springy grass beneath him had given way to creeping moss and fallen leaves.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“Where are—?” Gimli sputtered. “In Fangorn Forest, of course! Where else did you think you were?” He glared with some exasperation at the still befuddled Elf. “That must have been quite a nightmare for you to call out your Elf-knight’s name so loudly.” 

That effectively startled Legolas into more coherence. “He is not _my_ Elf-knight,” he protested. 

Gimli snorted. “Whatever he may be to you, ‘twas his name you cried out and verily roused me out of my own dreams!” he retorted. “And such pleasant dreams I was having, too!” 

Legolas had the grace to feel repentant. “Forgive me for disturbing your rest, Gimli,” he said ruefully. “It shall not happen again.”

The Dwarf merely turned a sceptical look on him. “As if you can control your dreams,” he growled. “Dratted Elf.”

Legolas scowled and shifted on his pallet to smooth out his cloak, which had evidently tangled itself around his tall frame during his nocturnal thrashings. As he did so, his shirt hem shifted just as Gimli’s stare, his concerned sweep of the archer’s form belying his curmudgeonly manner, fell on that particular region. 

The Dwarf’s eyes widened. He suddenly grinned wolfishly to Legolas’s surprise and apprehension. 

Gimli chuckled knowingly. “ _Your_ Elrohir is quite a master if what he once did with you is capable of leaving so deep a mark on your memory,” he said with a smirk.

The prince stared at him bewilderedly, failing to counter the charge anew. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Why, only that I am impressed that he can undo you even in your dreams!” Gimli proclaimed triumphantly, all umbrage gone. He looked pointedly at the Elf’s lap. 

Legolas glanced down then turned a deep red. The evidence of his explosive release betrayed itself in the small but visible dark splotch in the crotch of his breeches. He suddenly pulled his cloak around his form to hide the telltale shadow.

Gimli continued to snicker as he lay down once more upon his pallet. Legolas closed his eyes in embarrassment as he heard a chortlingly muttered: “In a pig’s eye!”

But even as his cheeks burned, his mind’s eye evinced the reason for his discomfiture. Against all reason and his own will, he saw an incomparably comely face before him. And a pair of luminous twilight eyes gazed back tenderly at him. As they had always done down the centuries of his life.

**********************************  
Glossary:  
Úrui - Sindarin for August  
Calenlass - Greenleaf  
ellyn - male Elves

_To be continued…_


	2. Never Before

The singeing caress of hungry lips and the searing clutch of desirous hands breached his defenses. Sleek ivory flesh undulated beneath his surging body. There was no evading the rapture that had inflamed his body without warning. No way to escape the slowly but inexorably mounting pressure in his groin that portended a completion of heart-stopping intensity. 

Elrohir gasped as he felt himself slowly gloved in silken warmth; groaned as lean but powerful legs locked around him, welcoming his intrusion. The pressure deepened and soon he was on the edge of a beckoning chasm. A cry rang out in his mind; a cry so fulsome in its joy it ruptured whatever hold he may have still had upon himself. He exploded with pleasure and spilled his seed against his struggling will.

He hissed in shock at this undoing then opened his eyes to stare unseeingly at the ceiling of the tent he shared with his brother. 

It was the fourth day since they parted from Aragorn close to the Gap of Rohan; a day longer since they left Legolas and Gimli on the outskirts of Fangorn Forest. Their company of Elves, Hobbits and one Wizard had been travelling steadily northwards, setting up camp wherever night found them. The Dunlendings had not troubled them at all for they did not dare tangle with Elvish folk.

The Hobbits had been merry for the most part, eager for home and hearth, though there were moments when Frodo would fall silent and steep himself in contemplation. Whereupon Sam would fidget and fuss over him in worry and Merry and Pippin would be less voluble than usual and just sit companionably with their cousin until his mood passed. The Elves, on the other hand, were neither gay nor dolorous but merely thoughtful about the years to come. For many, their days in Middle-earth were numbered and it was time to take stock of the future and prepare for the final passage to Valinor. 

But the twins were not of this number and their musings therefore apart from the others. In particular, Elrohir had thought little of other than the deed that bound his spirit irrevocably to the one he loved. The one who did not know of either love or binding. 

Now it was night once more and all was silent. Except in the brethren’s tent. Elrohir heard his own uneven breathing, harsh in the dark stillness. He had been struck and swiftly overtaken by something he had not expected and did not quite know what to do about. 

Elrohir shuddered as the throes of his unbidden release slowly faded. A hand clasped his arm and he blinked. Elladan’s concerned countenance came into focus. So immersed had he been in his mixed feelings of rapture and alarm that he had not marked his brother’s entrance. 

Elladan had gone for a walk with Almáriel and Gildor Inglorion after the evening meal and was just returned. The camp was utterly quiet for all others were fast asleep.

“What is wrong, _muindor_?”—brother—Elladan asked. “A dream?”

“If only it were,” Elrohir whispered in agitation. He sat up shakily from his pallet and threw off his cloak, revealing the evidence of his release. Elladan stared at him in surprise, wondering at his discomfiture. 

“There is nothing wrong in having such dreams,” he said gently. 

“But I was neither asleep nor dreaming,” Elrohir soberly told him. “The pleasure was mine but not the cause of it.” 

That elicited an expression of puzzlement. “But how—?” Elladan’s eyes widened. “Legolas?” he said in disbelief.

“It can only be him,” Elrohir agreed in a hushed voice. 

The older twin could only stare in astonishment for a while. At length, he said: “It must have been a powerful dream for you to have sensed it at this distance.” 

Elrohir could not help a slight blush. “Too powerful for comfort,” he confessed. “I did not think him capable of such wanting.”

“Did you not?” Elladan said somewhat skeptically. “Yet if I remember right, your last joining was beyond anything you’d ever expected, as you yourself put it.”

The blush deepened slightly. “It was under unusual circumstances,” Elrohir countered uneasily. “‘Twas but our reconciliation after the grievous near sundering of our friendship.”

Elladan snorted. “And how many friends reconcile by coupling?” he bluntly stated. 

“Elladan!”

The older twin raised his hands to ward off an imaginary punch. Despite the gravity of Elrohir’s situation, he could not help grinning at the full blossoming of color in his twin’s cheeks. It was not every day that anyone could make Elrohir blush so heartily. After calmly enduring the other’s glare, he turned serious once more. 

”Did you know his mind then?” he queried curiously.

Elrohir shook his head. “Nay, not that. But the feelings he felt, aye, and fragments of – of thoughts. I sensed his confusion.” The Elf-knight looked musingly his brother. “Much like what we have been told about what happens through—”

“The binding channel,” Elladan finished for him. The Elf-lord blew out his breath. “This is astounding indeed. Have you sensed other than this since—?”

“This is the first I have known this,” Elrohir said. “In truth, it frightened me even when it pleasured me.”

“Why should this have frightened you?” Elladan asked, a twinge of fear shading his voice. Was his twin already regretting his choice? “‘Twas Legolas you shared it with after all.”

“I did not expect it at all,” Elrohir explained. “I was not prepared either in body or mind. And I admit, I wondered if it truly was him or only my desperate longing.” He sighed. “I thought that mayhap the binding was driving me mad.”

Elladan let out a relieved exhalation and threw a comforting arm around his brother’s suddenly slumped shoulders. “Mithrandir would never have broached anything that would have so evil an effect on you. On any of us,” he softly reminded the other. “‘Twas a gift of the Valar, Elrohir.” 

The Elf-knight managed a tremulous smile. “I know,” he murmured. He looked up and met Elladan’s gaze. Sadness limned his argent eyes but it did not in any way mar the serenity in their depths. “Fear not, _gwaniuar_ , I do not regret what I did. Even were it to indeed drive me mad, I would never rue it.”

Elladan did not know whether to be pleased or grieved by his brother’s implacable love for the woodland prince. How was it that fate could be so kind to him and cruel to his twin? It was enough to make any Elf question the wisdom of the Powers themselves. 

And then he brightened up of a sudden. “But this should hearten you,” he said, his lips curling into a grin. “He desires you whatever he may claim. He cannot control his body’s yearnings and his dreams betray the truth.” He clasped his twin’s shoulder. “When you make your move at last, I think he will be hard-pressed to resist it.”

“That encourages me,” Elrohir replied with a small smile. And then he frowned in perplexity. “But that does not change the fact that this should not have been possible. How could it have happened?” he said. “I should not sense any of his thoughts or feelings as he might sense mine.”

“Are you guarding yours?” Elladan asked.

Elrohir nodded. “Most carefully,” he said. “He will know naught of my binding to him unless I tell him.”

Elladan pursed his lips. “It is puzzling,” he admitted. “The channel between you is not wholly affirmed. The flow should come from you alone.” He sighed in frustration. “But then again, we know next to nothing about one-sided bindings. There has not been its like before.” 

“Will it always be thusly?” Elrohir wondered with some trepidation. To be always on his guard against such unruly feelings day after day—! What if they should overcome him when they were least appropriate?

Elladan discerned his brother’s concerns at once. “I think the intensity of it was because you are newly parted,” he said musingly. “As he learns to cope with his need for your company such dreams and thoughts will likely diminish. And your connection should weaken as we put more distance between us and Rohan.”

“But when we meet again?” Elrohir murmured. “What then?”

“You will have learned to shield yourself by then,” Elladan pointed out. “There is nothing you cannot achieve when you set yourself to it. You have taken after Father and are gifted in matters of the mind. ‘Tis probably another reason why you proved so sensitive now,” he said with sudden insight. 

Elrohir rolled his eyes in frustration. “I am not certain if it is a gift or curse if I must now guard against his feelings as well as shield mine!”

Elladan looked sympathetically at the younger twin. “We can ask Father about this come morning. And mayhap Grandmother and Grandfather as well.” 

Elrohir shook his head. “Nay, I will not trouble _Ada_ with my problems. He deserves his peace and rest after all he has endured. I will not have him sail West carrying yet another worry with him.” He glanced out the open flap of the tent to where Celeborn and Galadriel reposed in theirs. “And they will be parting from each other soon. I do not care to add to their burden either. Not that I think any of them truly know,” he added. “They are mavens of elven lore but this is outside the bounds of lore.”

“Mithrandir then?” Elladan suggested.

Elrohir smiled wanly and said: “Do Wizards ever give a straight answer?” 

The older twin had to chuckle ruefully. “They are worse than Elves,” he acknowledged. 

Elrohir chuckled briefly as well. “But I doubt he knows much more than we do. Else he would have warned us of the consequences as well,” he remarked. “‘Tis not his way to give a solution and not reveal what it entails. I fear this is a riddle I must solve by myself.”

Elladan shook his head resignedly. “So it seems. Yet Mithrandir may be able to help you control the channel until you are ready for what flows through it.” 

Elrohir considered this. “He may,” he conceded. “I will speak with him tomorrow.” He lay down once more.

Elladan regarded his brother with concern. After a moment, he pulled his pallet closer and reclined upon it beside Elrohir. “Here, _gwanneth_ , let me hold you tonight,” he quietly offered.

Elrohir gratefully turned into his brother’s protective embrace. In their twinship, he had always found much comfort for his griefs and rages. In Elladan’s loving custody, he knew some peace as he gradually slipped into slumber.

But his dreams, waking or not, were still of the fairest Wood-elf of them all.

***************************************  
Glossary:  
gwaniuar – older twin  
Ada – Papa  
gwanneth – younger twin

_End of Part XIX._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Part XX: What the Morrow Will Bring – As the Third Age draws to an end, the twins and Legolas ponder their futures in a Middle-earth that has passed into the dominion of Men._


End file.
